StilesIsaac Drabbles
by cornflakesareglutenfree
Summary: I take prompts and write drabbles, then to keep things organized, I post them grouped by pairing. This is my 'stisaac' section. :)


vkdemon prompted: stiles & isaac, "lover of the light" by mumford & sons

a/n: if you'd like to listen to the song, you can find it here on my fic blog:

rinnwritesfic

.tumblr.

com/

tagged/

lover-of-the-light

~o0o~o0o~o0o~

Stiles lay in bed, pretending to sleep as he watched the happiest part of his life getting dressed in the dark, the light of a street lamp the only illumination in the room. He felt the familiar ache begin somewhere near his ribs and extend outward, quickly filling his entire being, searching his mind for a way to convince him to stay, sleep through the night in the warm cocoon of Stiles' bed. But before long he was gone, off to sleep in his own solitary bed halfway across campus. Stiles rolled over and tucked his face into the pillow that smelled of Isaac, and the baby shampoo he used when he showered. For Stiles, the smell had quickly come to mean 'home'.

~o0o~

Isaac turned the lock on the door handle and pulled it shut behind himself, waiting for the click of the latch securing before making his way down the hall and out of the building. It always happened like this. He'd get comfortable, decide to sleep with Stiles, finally allowing himself to be vulnerable in that way, and then he'd shut his eyes for a moment too long, and the nighmare would rise, and he had to get out. There were too many ghosts there for Stiles to have to deal with, and he knew he shouldn't go back, each time, he had the vague thought that this needed to be the last visit, the last night together, the last happy thought, but then he'd get a text, or phone call, or even just catch a whiff of tea tree, and be reminded of Stiles' shampoo, and make the call himself. His life held little meaning outside of college classes, and pack meetings, and now Stiles. It was dangerous, but he couldn't see any way past it. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunched his shoulders, heading not to his dorm but to the athletic building, glad for it's 24 hour availability, and the neverending run of a treadmill.

~o0o~

Stiles pulled back, panting, feeling every muscle in his body uncoil as the warm, blissful post-orgasmic haze overtook him. He let out a moan as he felt Isaac pull out, and clenched his fingers in those tight curls, pulling him closer, tucking them together in a tight embrace. He'd decided earlier that tonight was the night he pushed it when Isaac tried to leave. Tonight he'd make it a big deal, and tell him where he stood. Tonight was the night, if he didn't lose his resolve.

~o0o~

Isaac pressed his face into Stiles' neck, just breathing him in as he separated their bodies, feeling the way they melted together, knowing that this was the happiest he'd ever be, and with that came a little bit of sadness as well, because he knew he was being selfish. Knew that Stiles deserved better. Better than him, better than this, better than the best, even, and Isaac was far from that. He allowed himself another long minute or two before he pulled back, his muscles protesting, the chill of the room bracing on his back as he slid out of the covers and moved for his clothes, not even bothering to shower. It was time to go, and maybe tomorrow he'd have the strength not to come back.

~o0o~

Stiles wanted to weep with longing when Isaac pulled away, the poignant wish etched onto his features. He gritted his teeth, hoping he'd only move to the bathroom, but when he reached for his jeans, Stiles sat up, and prayed for strength to say what he needed to say. Their future may depend on how this conversation turned out. "I love you." he said, pausing to pull on his shorts before moving to stand before him. "I know you think bad things of yourself, but I love you, and everything you are, even the parts you think are ugly."

~o0o~

Isaac slowed as Stiles began to speak, but didn't stop dressing until he felt hands on his own, making him pause. He looked up into those eyes he loved so much, and had to fight the rush of emotion at the sweet, caring, and, yes, loving look in those eyes. He wanted to stop him, to stop the words, to stop the rush, to hide back in the world of fear and solitude that he knew so well, but then those lips were there, and he dropped the shirt he was holding, arms coming up to wrap around Stiles at the waist. When his words came out, they were choked, and far less eloquent than Stiles' had been. "Don't deserve you. Love you, though." He felt the tears begin to choke him, and held onto Stiles as if for dear life, and maybe that's what this really was, for a life with Stiles would be dear.


End file.
